Revealing Secrets
by iphoneguy
Summary: Dreams and lightning and fire and passion. Rated M.
1. Chapter 1

**Good news my awesome readers... I'M BACK :D :D :D ! I'm so sorry for not writing anything for a looonnnnggg time, I've just been extremely busy. Due to the positive feedback for my last story Wanna Bet (go check it out if you haven't already), I've decided to write another story along those lines. I'm not going to write a sequel to Wanna Bet cuz I have no idea how to continue it, so I apologize to the people who want one so badly (T^T). I really have no idea how I started to write this, but if you liked Wanna Bet, read on and tell me what you think. Oh and pleeaassseeeee review, they make me happy (^_^)  
**

Startled into wakefulness, Dawn struggled to get free. She thrashed about and fought against the unseen tethers that held her captive – and sat upright in her bed, gasping for air. The tangled and twisted sheets that had held her prisoner had been defeated, once again.

She looked down at her body, still unbelieving. It has been so intense, so vivid. The sounds, the sensations, and even the smell – the scent of arousal and fear and fucking. Could a dream be that real? That you could smell it?

According to the soft green glow of the digital clock on her nightstand, it was almost three in the morning.

Her nakedness gleamed with sweat in the moonlight streaming in through the window. She felt a bead of perspiration gather and swell and finally fall from her left nipple. Fuck, it was hot! She glared at the inoperative air conditioner in the wall next to the window. For what she and Lyra paid to rent this dump, she deserved better than this.

Still disoriented by the intensity of her dream, Dawn freed her left hand from where it had been wedged between her legs and caught up in the sweat-soaked sheets. She had been so close this time. So damn close! Another few seconds and she would have orgasmed.

Was it really true that if you orgasmed in a dream, that you would die?

Fragmentary, disjointed images from the dream careened back and forth in her mind, all jumbled up and making no sense to her now as she fought to arrange them in some sort of logical sequence.

When she used her fingers as a crude comb to chase away several trespassing strands of hair that were plastered to her face, the musky, aromatic fragrance of herself set off a sudden, stroboscopic burst of lightning flashes in her mind. Her pale, naked body standing in a dark field, surrounded by…. surrounded by what?

Dawn lay back down on her bed, her heart beating wildly and her mind not protesting when her hand returned to her pussy.

The urgency of her need was overwhelming.

Her other hand found her left breast and pressed down on the soft pillow of flesh as if to keep her heart from leaping out of her chest. She pulled and twisted and savaged her nipple, while at the same time she forced a second finger back into her spasming cunt and raked her clit with her thumbnail.

The rasping of her breath and the creaking protests of the old wooden bed frame were soon joined by another chorus of sounds. The bursts of lightning flared again behind her eyelids. Dawn saw herself standing in the field again, this time with circle of tall dark shapes moving to surround her.

The sounds got louder, closer. Dawn struggled to place them. A sudden loud moan that did not come from between her own clenched teeth finally told the story.

It was Misty, in her bed on the other side of the thin, plasterboard wall in the next apartment. She was being fucked, or beaten, or both; and she was liking it – a lot.

Misty's face was pressed up against the wall, her lips mere inches from Dawn's pillow, being held there while she was doing – or being forced to do – what to Dawn sounded like unspeakable, degenerate, depraved acts of passion. Her moans and strangled cries radiated with pure, primeval lust through the decades of paint and uncounted layers of wallpaper that were all that really separated her bed from Dawn's.

Dawn twisted around so that her own face was pressed up against the wall to listen.

Still abusing her cunt and tits with her hands; she kissed the wall, wanting to taste and drink the passion directly from Misty's lips. Aching to experience the unbridled sexual fury that drove Misty to such heights of sexual pyrotechnics, Dawn dug her fingernails into her clit. The pain brought tears to her eyes and her cunt spasmed again, gripping the fingers that explored the entrance to her womb. She cried, tears of pain and need and jealousy cascading down her face.

It wasn't enough. She needed what Misty had.

Misty's bed thudded hard against the wall inches from Dawn's pillow, sending a small shower of dust raining down on her sweat-streaked face. Again and again, the bed recoiled against the wall. It was as if the bed, or its occupant, wanted to escape.

Misty moaned again, milliseconds after a muted, though still harsh, thud reverberated through the wall.

Dawn's hands kneaded her own arousal into a hot, pulsing urgency, her hands pinching and thrusting in time with the blows thudding against Misty's body.

_Oh, yes. Please. Now. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck ME! FUCK ME!_

A sudden crash that made the whole room vibrate and the new, louder shrieks of protest from Misty's bed told her that Misty had been lifted up and bodily thrown back down onto the bed. This was quickly followed by the sounds of someone else leaping onto the bed and onto Misty's wonderfully curved, built-for-sex body. The now-rhythmic thumping of the bed against the wall meant that Misty was being fucked now, being fucked by a wild, ravening beast.

"Yes! Yes! Harder. Please. Oh god, oh god. Thank you!" Misty's voice telegraphed her arousal and the nearness of her orgasm.

Dawn pressed her ear tightly against the wall, to catch every last breathless syllable.

"Please, Sir. Please. Harder. Do it again."

The sound of a loud wet, skin-on-skin SLAP sliced through the wall like a knife through butter.

"Yes. Again, please. Yes! Yes, I am your cunt. I am your obedient little slut. Please, please, let me come!"

Misty was slapped again; a quick fury of blows against her flesh the response to her entreaty and her declaration. The man's voice was low, drowned by Misty's pleading and the incessant banging of her bed against the wall, not letting Dawn make out his words. But his intent was clear. He was not going to let Misty have her orgasm – at least not yet.

Misty was thrashing around on the bed, her hands bumping against the wall and her fingernails scratching at the wallpaper as she wrapped her hands around the bedposts to steady herself against the fury of her assailant.

The manbeast grunted his displeasure at Misty's thrashing. More slaps and then a quick flurry of metallic sounds ended with the sounds of a chain being threaded through a ring attached to the wall and shackles being snapped shut.

"Please, oh god, please, let me come," Misty pleaded, her voice now accompanied by a chorus of clinking metal links as she writhed on the bed.

"Please, yes, I want to come, too," Dawn echoed as she scrabbled about in her nightstand drawer for her dildo. "Let me come, too." When her hand found it, she quickly impaled herself on the entirety of its length. The shriek that escaped her lips was deafening, it was so loud. The fucking and the torturing of Misty's diminishing ability to hold off her orgasm continued unabated next door, though Dawn was sure that Misty had heard her cry out.

Dawn was on her back now, neck tilted so her ear was still touching the wall. She had her legs underneath her, her naked cunt lifted up off the bed, while she fucked herself as hard as she could with the huge rubber prick. As hard as Misty was being drilled by the real cock next door, she hoped.

Misty was getting louder and more frantic. Dawn could hear her lover – lover? – telling her what a dirty, nasty slut she was; and how she didn't deserve to come. That she hadn't earned the privilege of giving him her orgasm. Misty wailed in frustration as she poured out her soul to the man who was fucking her and slapping and spanking her.

"Please, Paul, oh god, please! Let me come for you. Yes, I am your slut. Your whore. That's it, yes. Ohh, fuck, yes. In the ass. Now. Ahhh! More. Deeper. I'm your fuckslave. Yes, you can tell anyone! Pleeeease!"

Paul proceeded to fuck Misty's ass like a wild beast. Her warbling cries of pain-soaked lust drove Dawn to the brink of orgasm herself as she savaged her cunt and pinched her clit in an attempt to keep pace with what was happening on the other side of the wall.

And when Paul finally permitted Misty to come, Dawn exploded in orgasm in tandem with the extremely vocal Misty. The two women thrashed about on their beds, mere inches apart as their orgasms seized their bodies and shook them like rag dolls.

When it was over, Dawn was too weak to move. She uncurled her legs from beneath her body, but left the long, fat dildo sticking out of her cunt like an obscene spear. As she hugged her tits and cupped her mons to make the fire burn for a few more minutes, she heard Misty murmuring her thanks to her tormenter as she cleaned his cock with her tongue.

* * *

The next thing Dawn knew was that it was morning, and she was late for class.

When she awoke to the bright light of the morning sun blazing in her eyes, she could not believe that any of the previous night had been real. It must have been a dream. Standing naked in the field, surrounded by dozens of shapes – men? - while the lightning flashed, Misty chained - being fucked and sodomized and beaten while she begged for more – and begged for her orgasm.

And what she had done to secretly join Misty in her orgy of lust and degradation.

All a dream.

But no, not a dream. The smell of sex and fucked cunt that permeated the tiny bedroom said otherwise. And most of all, the dildo sticking out of her naked pussy between her legs told her that at least part of the dream had been a lie. She had actually done that, fucking herself so she could come along with Misty, so that at least a small part of her could join in the orgasmic fury that had unleashed itself next door.

It was a good thing that Lyra was gone for a week, gone back home to bury her grandmother. Lyra would understand none of this.

Dawn fell out of bed onto the floor and crawled on her hands and knees into the miniscule bathroom to curl up under the showerhead to bathe. It was only when the water was nearly cold and she had washed her sweat and her come down the drain beneath her huddled body that she removed the dildo from her cunt. Instinctively, she forced the dildo into her mouth to imprint the taste of her sinfulness into her mind, and to make a feeble attempt to emulate what Misty had done last night after she had been fucked in the ass.

When Dawn finally was ready to face the outside world, she had already missed her first two classes of the day. Dreading all of the catch-up work and studying she was going to have to do, she stuffed her backpack full of the books she would need for the day along with her notebook PC, and hoisted it to her shoulders.

Running a hand through her spiky blonde hair in a feeble attempt to tame it, she turned the key in the lock and started down the hallway.

"Hi, Dawn," a familiar voice called from behind her. "Aren't you usually gone, like, hours ago for your first class?

Dawn turned around to face her, trembling, almost too afraid to look.

"Hi, Misty. Yeah, I know. I slept late. Forgot to set the fucking alarm clock."

Dawn studied the always suggestively attired Misty Yawa for any telltale signs of the uninhibited fuckslut, or of the wild orgy of rough sex she had partaken of last night. Nothing about the cheery and voluble Misty standing in the hallway now gave any hint that the heart of a masochist beat beneath her tight blue spandex top and that a slut's well-reamed ass hid behind the curtain of her red leather microskirt.

As Misty glided up to stand next to Dawn, a tall, rangy man with long, stringy purple hair dressed in tight black jeans and a Grateful Dead t-shirt slammed Misty's door shut and sauntered down the hallway to snake his arm around Misty's tiny waist.

"Who's this, pet?" he asked, while his eyes shamelessly caressed every inch of Dawn's body, seeing right through the tight, cropped white t-shirt and her low-slung, painted-on pants.

"Dawn, my neighbor," Misty answered, tilting her head in the direction of Dawn's apartment door to confirm her status. "She's into computers and stuff, like you wouldn't believe. Dawn, this is Paul."

Paul continued to leer at Dawn while his arm uncoiled from around Misty's waist to massage the back of her neck and count her vertebrae down to the top of her ass. "Were we too loud last night?"

Dawn watched Misty's nipples flare into hardness when Paul began to squeeze her ass. Her neighbor grinned and twisted to kiss Paul wetly on his ear. "Dawn's bedroom is right on the other side of the wall from mine. Of course we were too loud. At least I know I was."

"No, not really," Dawn lied. "I've been working on this set of routines for, like, three fucking days now, living on coffee and pretzels and ice cream, and I finally crashed around 6 last night – both me and the fucking computer – so I was completely out of it last night. That's why I'm late today. And the shitty program still isn't working."

She smiled what she hoped was a rueful, innocent smile. "So if you two were moaning and groaning and being loud when you were doing the nasty, you were playing to an empty house."

"Too bad," Paul said. "Maybe you would have liked to join us."

"Paul!" Misty dug her elbow into Paul's ribs. "Stop that. Dawn's not like that. Don't be such a shit!"

"Sorry," Paul replied, though Dawn knew that he wasn't, even the least bit. His eyes spoke a completely different message.

"Damn! I forgot something. See you later," Dawn blurted out, as she felt her face flushing with embarrassment and with the fear that Paul would see through her lies and know that she had been a hidden, third participant in their deviant tryst last night. She darted back into her apartment and slammed the door closed behind her.

Tossing her backpack on the floor, she leaned against the door, her heart beating like a jackhammer and her breath coming in short, shallow gulps of air. She had never been so unnerved and scared of someone before in her life.

_Oh god, did he know I was lying? He knows. He heard me. He had to. Oh, fuck, what do I do now? What will I say when I see him again? He's going to undress my lies along with my body…_

Unzipping her pants and reaching inside, she closed her eyes and fingered her already drenched pussy to a quick, hard orgasm while she gripped to door handle to maintain her balance.

In a flash, she was back on her bed, ear pressed to the wall, listening though the wall to Paul and Misty as her muscles tightened like a vise around the fingers buried in her cunt.

_"Please, Sir. Please. Harder. Do it again."_

_SLAP!_

_"Yes. Again, please. Yes! Yes, I am your cunt. I am your obedient little slut. Please, please, let me come!"_

After the voices in her head and her orgasmic spasms faded away, and her heart rate and breathing returned to something resembling normal, Dawn washed her hands and recombed her hair. She stopped short of changing out of her soaking wet panties, though. For reasons she did not fully analyze or understand, she decided to wear them for the rest of the day.

When she emerged from her apartment again, she was already too late for her third class.

Dawn decided, instead, to go to the library to do some research for one of her history papers. She turned to walk up the hill towards the library, thinking about Misty, and Paul – and thinking about the very wet wisp of silk that was riding up between her labia and again dampening the crotch of her pants.

* * *

As far as academics went, Dawn's day was a complete and utter failure. The time she spent in the library evaporated in a hazy fog of twisted images of Misty and Paul, of herself and Paul, and of her and Misty chained together and being forced to submit to him together.

The sheer wickedness and the raw brutality of her visions scared her. But they did not keep her panties from being constantly wet. By the time she ended the fiction of studying her Algorithms text and working on her Statistics assignment, she had one hand methodically rubbing her pussy through the tight, wet denim of her pants beneath the unused textbook she held on her lap.

When she rose unsteadily to her feet and packed her things, Dawn knew what she needed to do.

On her way back to her apartment, she detoured several streets over to the strip where the bars and nightclubs created a candyland of adult temptations that fed off the university students' need for diversions from academics and their craving for places to test their newly acquired independence from parental oversight. She searched for a while before she found it, halfway down a non-descript alley behind a nightclub with a reputation for depravity that far exceeded its competitors.

When she finally stood in front of its blackened windows, she looked up and down the ally to see if anyone was paying any attention to her. No one. She paced back and forth in front of the entrance, trying to see into the fluorescent colored interior through the open door.

The shop appeared empty of customers.

After surveying the alley one more time to make sure, Dawn screwed up her courage and crossed the threshold into the alien world within. The sight of all of the magazines and videos and the walls of…. of amazing and indescribable things made Dawn's head spin.

"Hello. Can I help you?"

Dawn nearly leaped out of her skin.

"Sorry, but you looked like you weren't sure you were in the right place. I didn't mean to scare you."

Dawn turned around to face the voice. A tall young woman stood behind a counter next to the cash register. She was dressed in a purple spandex dress, her face framed by long, dark hair that cascaded over her shoulders; and with a studded leather collar around her slender, pale neck. And she was smiling at her, clearly enjoying her obvious discomfort.

"Are you in the right store?" the woman asked. "You look a bit, well, out of place. Thinking, 'nice girls don't go into places like this'. Am I right?"

"Yes. No. Yes, I mean... I am in the right place. I need to get some things. And no, I wasn't thinking that. About nice girls, I mean."

"But you are a nice girl, aren't you?" The woman came out from behind her counter. The purple spandex ended a few centimeters beneath her pussy, leaving her long, slender legs in full view all the way down to her spike-heeled ankle boots. "It's OK. Nice girls fuck, too; even though their parents sometimes can't imagine their precious little ones ever doing it. And some nice girls like to do wicked, unspeakable things when they fuck."

Dawn bowed her head but did not refute the 'nice girl' label that the woman had so accurately engraved on her forehead. "I just want to look around for a bit."

"All right. Let me know if you have any questions. My name is Annabel, by the way. And I'm a nice girl, too. And I do love to do unspeakable things. Depraved, obscene, unspeakable, things. I'll tell you about some of them, if you want."

"No, no thank you. I'll just look around, thanks."

Dawn edged away from Annabel and turned to stare at a wall of vibrators and dildos. The variety of sizes and shapes and colors was staggering. Still feeling Annabel's eyes watching the back of her head, she slowly paced along the wall, searching. And not finding what she was looking for.

Another customer entered the shop. Annabel greeted the male voice as a familiar, regular customer and kindred pervert.

Dawn inched along the wall, trying to be inconspicuous. It wasn't until she spied the entryway into another room and darted into it, that she felt like she could relax and really look at the amazing things arrayed on the racks and hooks and tables around her.

When Dawn emerged from the back room, the other customer was gone. She walked to the counter and dumped her selections down in front of Annabel, who was back in her spot next to the cash register.

"Did you find everything you were looking for?" Annabel asked, her face betraying her amusement at Dawn's discomfort.

"Yes. Yes, I did. Everything." Dawn pushed the pile towards Annabel. "I'll take these."

"OK, let's see what we have here," Annabel said as she began to sort the items in the disorderly pile and ring them up on the register. "Hmmm, quite the assortment here. Are these for you? Or are you going to use them on someone else?"

"Um, they're for me," Dawn blurted out truthfully, before she could think of anything else to say. "I want them for myself."

"You do know how to be careful with them, don't you? I mean, you have to know what you're doing. You don't want to do something stupid and get yourself in trouble, or get hurt."

"Yes, I know. I know how to use them," Dawn replied, as she regained her composure enough to lie again.

Annabel looked unconvinced as she put the last of Dawn's purchases into the black plastic bag. "All right, then. You're all set."

Dawn counted out her money and completed the transaction.

"Come back on Saturday night," Annabel offered. "We are doing a class over at Hellfire after midnight. On how to use the tools of the trade safely and effectively." Annabel licked her lips and grinned. "And I get to be the model. My Trainer is going to use me to demonstrate how to whip a slut to the edge of orgasm – safely and effectively. It's going to be my first time in front of a group. It is going to be so fucking hot, I can't stop thinking about it."

"Maybe, I'll have to see," Dawn said.

"Enjoy your new toys," Annabel called out as Dawn scooped up her bag and headed for the door. "And do come back on Saturday. I would love to have you in the audience, watching me. A friendly face, to cheer me on. Even if you do know all about using it all properly."

"Like I said, maybe." And then Dawn was back outside in the alley, back in the oppressive summer heat.


	2. Chapter 2

That night, Dawn experimented with her new purchases. Annabel had been right. She really did not know what she was doing. It took some time and false starts and fumbling around to get things right. But she was careful and methodical and she was soon handling them with a level of ease and comfort that surprised her, given her complete lack of experience.

Confident now that she was ready, Dawn set up her video camera on the tripod and aimed it at the old, beat-up leather armchair that dominated the center of her bedroom.

Since she had done her experiments in the nude, she decided to not get redressed for the camera. After all, this wasn't about doing a striptease. She found her dildo on the floor of the shower where she had left it that morning and did a quick hair-taming before she returned to the bedroom and framed the chair in the camera's field of view and adjusted the zoom lens so that it would see all of her when she was seated in the chair.

When she was satisfied she turned the camera on, and positioned herself in the chair.

For the next fifteen minutes, she posed and modeled, using her fingers as props and visual aids, and masturbating with her dildo while she talked to the unblinking red light atop the video camera. At the end of her speech, Dawn closed her eyes and fucked herself to a hard, fast orgasm with the dildo pumping in and out of her cunt. She told the camera everything about her orgasm in vivid, graphic detail, and about how much she loved fucking.

When she had finished herself off, Dawn peeled her sweaty skin off the chair and stopped the camera. There was no need for a second take. This was a one-shot deal. If this wasn't good enough, nothing was. After all, this wasn't the fucking Academy Awards.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Saturday. One more day until Lyra returned. One more day of freedom – and of opportunity.

Dawn showered and shaved and primped and perfumed herself while she rehearsed in her mind what she was going to do. Still naked, she moved with steady, unhurried purpose as she carefully arranged everything in the bedroom and the living room. Everything had to be perfect.

The same logical, methodical mind that made complex computer algorithms seem like child's play organized and placed each item with a military-like precision. After making three complete final-inspection tours of the apartment, she was ready. Only then did she get dressed.

Her attire for the evening was equally well considered. The black knit dress was the only logical choice. Breathtakingly short, snug, clinging to every curve on her slender body, and backless down to the very top of her ass – it was perfect. But it was the halter top with the deeply cut, sides that made it truly stunning. Close to a third of her breasts were completely exposed in profile, showing a generous portion of the undercurve of her tits.

From the front, and if she kept her arms straight against her sides, the dress actually looked modest, other than the cunt-high hem of the skirt. The neckline was high and square-cut, showing not even a hint of cleavage. But from the side or the rear, Dawn was far more naked than she was covered.

The shock factor of approaching someone, starting a conversation, and only after engaging him in a witty dialog finding an excuse to turn and let him see how nearly naked she really was, and watching the reaction in his eyes and in his pants was always a turn-on.

She had gotten laid every time she had worn this dress, and Dawn fervently hoped that tonight would be no exception.

But tonight was different. She wanted more, extraordinarily more, than a simple roll-in-the-hay fuck. And that both aroused her, and terrified her. Dawn's cunt clenched and spasmed as she saw herself a few hours from now. Yes, very different. Stunningly, exhilaratingly different.

The black knit dress and her black stilettos. Nothing else. Only a hammered-silver and onyx choker around her neck and a pair of matching silver bracelets.

When she strode out of her apartment, Dawn's heart was racing and it felt like she was already outside her body, her mind floating freely and racing ahead. She did not even feel the handrail that she gripped so tightly as she teetered down the stairs on her impossibly high heels.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dawn hugged her cheap, plastic jacket close around her body as she walked the short distance from her apartment to the nightclub strip along the edge of the university campus. She suddenly felt very naked and exposed in the harsh glare of the streetlights. Her heels clicked loudly on the pavement as she hurried along.

Could she really do it? Was she brave enough?

Most importantly, did she need this more than she feared it? And what was she most afraid of? That she would be hurt and scarred by the experience? Or that she would embrace it and love it too much?

Every few storefronts, Dawn slowed her pace to watch her reflection in the blank, expressionless expanse of glass of a business closed for the night. She was suddenly a very little girl in a grown-up body – a girl with unanswered questions that she was determined to answer, whatever the consequences.

She thought of her parents, sitting together at home. Her mother sewing something, sitting in the flowered print armchair with her pins and thread stuck like acupuncture needles in the overstuffed arms; and her father reading the newspaper in the rocking chair while he slowly squeaked back and forth in his stockinged feet. What would they think if they could see their daughter now?

Would Daddy rush out to drag her home and save her from what she was about to do? Or would he thunder and lecture her again about the degeneracy and the absence of morals in her generation? Her mother would cry and twist her fingers together, but remain silent, as she always did when she was confronted with willful rebellion in her children.

A cool breeze sprang up, reminding Dawn of how nearly naked she was, and urging her along at a faster pace. Her parents' living room faded away as the bright neon lights and the first wind-delivered pulses of heavy metal music captured her attention and lured her forward like the mythical call of the Sirens.

Ten minutes later, Dawn stepped across the threshold of Hellfire. The initial sensory blast staggered and distracted her as she fumbled in her purse for her ID and enough crumpled-up bills to gain admittance to the bacchanal within.

The music was deafening, and the strobe lights and the neon competed in their attempt to overpower the clouds of legal and illegal smoke and illuminate the writhing mass of male and mostly-underdressed female bodies.

But it was the smell that catapulted Dawn's body into overdrive.

It was the smell of cigarettes and weed and perfume and sweat. But most of all, it was the smell of sex. It was the scent of desire and wanting and needing, and of hard cocks chasing wet cunts.

Dawn tossed her jacket to the side, not caring where it landed. She would not need it any more tonight. Once she was inside the whirlpool of uninhibited lust that was Hellfire, she had no more need for its protective shield. She waded into the mass of bodies and worked her way towards the bar.

Every few steps she felt hands touching her. Both male and female hands groped her, using the anonymity of the dance floor to short-circuit and bypass the rules of daylight society. This was another world, with very different rules.

An unseen man moved behind her and grabbed her hips and rubbed his cock against her ass. A woman dancing in front of Dawn seized her arm and sucked her fingers between her green painted lips while another man slipped his hand inside Dawn's dress and rolled her nipple back and forth between his fingers.

When Dawn recoiled in surprise, the man moved to the green-lipped woman and sucked her tongue into his mouth while he pinched her nipples through her see-through lace top while the two of them continued to leer at Dawn before they disappeared into the whirling cyclone of gyrating dancers.

Yet another man groped Dawn's ass with his hand, shoving it down the back of her dress to cup her ass cheek in his calloused fingers. He seemed delighted that she was naked under the minimal coverage of her dress.

Finally, Dawn emerged from the other side of the amoeba-like crowd of dancers. She touched the polished black top of the bar as if she was a marathon runner crossing the finish line.

"Vodka. A double. Stoli, not the house shit. Yes, with a lime," she told the man behind the bar. She slapped some money on the bar and gulped her drink down, spilling only a modest amount down the front of her immodest dress.

"Another," she demanded.

The first drink served to calm her nerves and hold back the fire in her cunt, if only for a little while. The second one she sipped, while she leaned back against the bar and surveyed the chaotic mating frenzy being played out in front of her.

The women she ignored, other than to register a quick thumbs-up or thumbs-down fashion check and to compare the level of indecency they displayed compared to her own minimal attire. To her disappointment, the other Hellfire women were more than adequate competition in the contest to display as much tight, firm flesh as possible, given the minimal standards for decency imposed within the club.

The men received more careful scrutiny.

All of the men – well, boys, really – she scanned were immediate disappointments. Their youth; their drunken, unsophisticated behavior; or the way they danced or touched or looked at their women - they all served to disqualify them in Dawn's eyes. Attractive, yes; and with nice hard cocks, to be sure. But boys, nonetheless. Undoubtably quick to orgasm and unskilled in the art of seducing and taking a woman in the manner that Dawn wanted to be taken tonight.

When a particularly unattractive yet determined boy locked eyes on her and began his approach, brimming with alcohol-fired confidence, Dawn fled from her perch at the bar. She edged along the back wall of the club and disappeared as quickly as she could down the corridor that presumably led to the restrooms.

After she turned the corner she discovered that Hellfire, like its namesake, had more than one circle of sinfulness and depravity.

Ranged along one side of the long, dimly-lit hallway were a series of alcoves and small rooms.

Dawn moved down the throng-filled passageway slowly, easing herself around knots of people as she went. The sights and sounds emanating from each of the little rooms were reason enough to linger and sightsee along the way.

Within each alcove, some carnal or obscene act was being performed, right out in the open and visible to anyone who peeked inside the ragged, half-closed curtains strung across each doorway.

Inside the first curtained room, a woman was bent over a cocktail table with her dress pulled up over her hips being fucked in the ass by a man dressed head to toe in silver-studded leather, while an audience of tightly entwined couples fondled each other as they watched.

"Don't be so gentle, Max," one of the women barely-dressed women along the far wall cooed, between slurping licks of her partner's penis that she held lovingly in one hand while her other was busy beneath her skirt. "Kristen isn't a doll made of glass. Ram it into her! Hard and rough, baby. Fuck her like the cumwhore she is. We want to hear her scream. "

"You do love the pain, don't you, Martha?" Max laughed. "But you love it more when it is some other slut getting split open by a fucking big cock, don't you?"

"You are a beast, Max," Martha retorted, making a face at the man reaming the lovely and pliable Kristin's ass. "But I still love you anyway. Now, will you put that steel dick of yours in me next? If you can still do it after you fill sweet little Kristin here with your cream."

Turning away from her man's erection for a moment, Martha smoothed Kristen's flyaway hair with her wet fingers. "You do want Max to fuck you like the dirty little fuckdoll you are, don't you Kristen, darling?"

A surging knot of revelers dragged Dawn farther down the hallway before she could hear Kristen's breathless reply. They surged into the second doorway, leaving Dawn to clutch the doorframe at the entrance to watch this new show.

The crowd milling about in the second room made it difficult for Dawn to see what was going on. She lingered long enough to catch a quick glimpse, though, of a woman suspended face-down from the ceiling in a basket-like cradle of ropes. The woman twitched and jerked in pain from – the people surrounding her were biting her flesh! The woman did not cry out or ask them to stop, however. Instead, she begged for more, asking to be hurt and to be marked with their teeth.

"Harder, damn it. Yes. Oh, god, fuck yes. That's it. Right on my fucking nipple. Pull it. Stretch it. Oh, godddd."

One of the women who was ravaging the suspended slave's thighs looked up and smiled at Dawn, and beckoned her to join them.

It was from the shock of being so unexpectedly invited to partake in the demonic feast laid out in front of her, rather than from being repulsed by the idea, that prompted Dawn to quickly shake her head "no" and scurry away around the corner.

It was too soon and too overt. She wasn't ready for that. Not tonight.

It was in the third room that Dawn was truly rocked back on her heels by what she saw. This alcove had a black velvet rope across the entrance, and a very large man to guard it.

The gatekeeper leered at her as she moved forward.

When Dawn was abreast of the velvet rope she turned her head to look inside to see what spectacle was being exhibited in this part of the depraved zoo that was Hellfire. When she saw what was inside, she instinctively covered her mouth in surprise, as if she was a little girl again, seeing something wicked for the very first time.

Inside the room, spread-eagled and chained on one wall was – Annabel. Yes, it was the angel-slut who had sold her the things she had bought earlier. The purple-haired Annabel was completely naked, except for a dizzying array of brightly colored clothespins attached to her body. Tied together with sting, the pins snaked in a long curving line from her tits, making an obscene zipper across her belly and down her left leg.

The voluptuous brunette who knelt in front of Annabel was doubling the line back up her other leg as Dawn gaped – the relentless line of colored plastic statues headed for Annabel's smooth-shaven and for-now unadorned cunt lips.

"Don't space them so far apart, Cynthia," the man directing Annabel's decorations from the center of the room directed. "Our little slave-girl is stronger than that. No more than one inch apart – or else you will be up there in her place."

"Yes, Sir," the chastened Cynthia replied. 'And no, Master, I do not wish to take Annabel's place."

Annabel was sweating and breathing deeply as she drove her mind inward, away from the pain on the surface of her body.

On the other wall was a woman who was a complete counterpoint to Annabel. While Annabel was purple-haired and young and ripe in her sexuality, the woman shackled to the opposite wall was the quintessential brunette goddess. The kind of woman who should have been some man's trophy-wife, sitting across from him in an elegant restaurant wearing La Perla lingerie and a Versace couture dress sipping champagne.

But no, this sleek, sensual and confident-looking woman with the salon-groomed hair and body and freshly waxed, naked pussy was chained to the wall opposite Annabel in the third circle of Hellfire, having hot, black candle wax being poured down her breasts by a tall, tattooed and pierced woman with amazingly firm tits while a punk-girl redhead knelt in front of her slowly twisting a giant dildo in and out of the blonde's hairless slit.

The man in the center of the room turned away from Annabel to grin at the blonde decorating the other wall of his lair. "So, Flannery, is Whitney doing an adequate job of keeping your cunt wet? And is Jasmine's wax hot enough? I think she is holding the candle a bit too far away, don't you think so, darling?"

All three women turned to smile at the man.

Dawn could tell that all three adored him.

The redheaded Whitney spoke first. "I can feel her muscles trying to hold on to the prick, Master. Our Flannery is a greedy little cunt tonight, Sir. She doesn't want me to pull it out. She wants to keep it – the naughty little bitch."

Jasmine made a show of moving the steadily dripping candle farther away and then searingly close to the trophy blonde's tits. "Watch this, Master, " she said. Jasmine flicked the hardened wax stalactites from Flannery's nipples and then quickly bent down to bite her rock-hard and beet-red tips hard, each one in succession. Then she zoomed the candle in with a wicked flourish to pour a steady stream of molten black pain onto Flannery's scorched nipples from a distance of mere millimeters.

Flannery screamed and jumped, her muscles taut and sharply defined beneath her smooth, tanned skin. "Ahh! Please! Please, Master. Let me come. Please. More. More, now. Cock, deeper. Harder. Oh, godddd."

The Master who was orchestrating this demonic scene shook his head, and said "No." He gestured to Whitney and Jasmine to suspend their abasement and torture of Flannery's flesh, and turned back towards Annabel.

Dawn watched, rapt with awe, and completely powerless to move.

As the man turned towards Annabel, he spied Dawn staring open-mouthed at the women chained to the walls. "If you don't close that mouth, we shall have to put something in it," he declared. "Do you want to join us?"

Dawn felt her face flush a hue as crimson as the Flannery's wax-seared breasts. "No. No, thank you" she said, though her lips moved without making a sound.


End file.
